


Sinful Nature

by AFuckingPrince



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alien Biology, Alpha Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ambiguous Age, Breeding, Consequences, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Pregnancy, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Son Gohan, Trans Male Character, Unreliable Narrator, biology made them do it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27265069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFuckingPrince/pseuds/AFuckingPrince
Summary: Vegeta wasn’t planning on taking the virginity of Kakarot’s bratty eldest son, but, when the opportunity presented itself, his instincts jumped at the chance. Gohan’s submission, willing or otherwise, wasn’t really a factor in his decision.
Relationships: Son Gohan/Vegeta
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	Sinful Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Galatians 6:7_   
>  _Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings/clarification at end notes, slight spoilers

The first time Gohan went into heat, Vegeta had been on another planet entirely, training far from Earth.

He did feel a slight pang of regret at having missed the first heat of one of the few Saiyans left, the only living Saiyan Omega, to his knowledge, but it was no matter. He was only Kakarot’s halfbreed whelp.

When he returned to Earth, there was no evidence left of Gohan’s burgeoning sexual maturity other than the silence around the matter, as well as the additional locks added to a few doors in the Son household, and, evidently at Bulma’s insistence, one on the door of the guest bedroom that Gohan frequented in their own home.

The second time Gohan experienced his heat, he had only _just_ come over to stay, visiting with Goten to spend time with Trunks. Vegeta had been out of the house and, by the time he got back from the gravity chamber, Bulma had sent Gohan home and aired all the rooms, the only lingering smell being that of air freshener.

The third time, though, was a fluke. Bulma was planning on taking all of the boys on a trip to some asinine amusement park for a few weeks, but Gohan had insisted he had “too much homework” and that he was “only there to drop off Goten.”

Naturally, Bulma had forced Vegeta to, begrudgingly, indulge the halfbreed in the dinner she had prepared for him, to share the food that was intended for _him_ by his _wife_.

If Vegeta started out irritated, it didn’t last long.

He wasn’t sure exactly what Gohan or Chi-Chi had gotten wrong, though. Perhaps they miscounted the days until the boy’s next heat, or perhaps he wasn’t very regular yet.

Regardless, Vegeta had just been taking the food into the dining room from where Bulma had left it in the kitchen, the lazy woman, when his hair seemed to stand up on end, even more than usual.

Gohan had been sitting in the dining room, polite smile on his face. Nothing outright strange, but Vegeta couldn’t help but notice how _sweet_ he smelled, the sudden almost spicy tint in the air around the young Saiyan.

“Gohan?”

His voice wasn’t his own, too rough and strained, and, as he set down the food on the table haphazardly, Gohan looked up at him in confusion. 

And then, after a moment, shock.

He said nothing, but he seemed unsure, and stood up abruptly. Then he simply stood there, staring at Vegeta, like he was waiting for him to decide what to do.

_Of course._

Vegeta knew what was expected of him, by his wife, by Chi-Chi, by Gohan, hell, even by himself.

He was supposed to lock himself far away from Gohan, right? Call Chi-Chi over to collect her son, call any non-Saiyan, really. He was an Alpha, he knew it wasn’t supposed to be his responsibility.

Knew that no one in their lives trusted him with that responsibility.

 _And_ , he figured, eyes dragging over Gohan, _they were probably right to not trust him._

Although, there was one person who seemed to trust him. It was, oddly enough, Gohan himself.

The kid was looking over at him with patient, if nervous, trust. He was waiting for the older man to direct him, _guide_ him, tell him what to do. 

For all of Vegeta’s strengths, a strong Saiyan willingly submitting to him was a large weakness of his.

He vaguely remembered telling Gohan to get into the guest room, and he did as he asked, going into the bedroom and sitting quietly on the bed, still seeming as if he couldn’t utter a single word.

In retrospect, Vegeta commended his own willpower.

He did not, in fact, follow the Alpha instincts screaming in his brain, instead simply shutting the door as calmly as he could possibly manage, (nearly splintering the doorframe,) and activating the lock.

At that point, he’d fluffed up with pride, knowing that Chi-Chi and Bulma should thank him, praise him for such selflessness in the face of adversity.

And, in his domesticated, more “humanized” brain, he knew that, on some level, it was wrong.

Wasn’t it?

It was Gohan. Kakarot’s brat. The kid he’d been tormenting his entire life. He should not be thinking the thoughts he was, not about him, not about Gohan, not even with the scent of a Saiyan _desperately_ in heat forcing through cracks in the doorway.

Likely through the cracks Vegeta himself had left in the doorway. He cursed himself.

The scent was clouding his brain, though. He knew what it was for. He had spent enough time on his planetary namesake to know that much.

It was meant to signify to other, stronger Saiyans that Gohan was available, _ready_.

What commenced was a battle between his thorough domestication at the hands of his wife, and his own deeper, base instincts. For the time being, the domestication won out, and Vegeta stumbled to his bedroom, sleeping restlessly through the night.

When he woke, in the morning, he found he couldn’t breathe.

Or, rather, he _could_ , but there was so thick of a scent in the air that it choked him. Never in his life had he been in that situation.

He knew Omegas, back on his birth planet, of course, but he had never spent enough time around any in heat. 

Certainly he had not, upon reaching his own maturity, let any fill his living space with the scent of their body’s willingness to bear his children.

Although, granted, he was unaware that any survived Frieza’s destruction of their planet.

It appeared, though, that Kakarot’s line had some Omega genes, not unusual for the lowest strata of Saiyan society.

...Of course, all of those thoughts, those reflections on his own history and that of his planet, would come later.

For the time being, the only functioning part of his body seemed to be his dick.

It was a typical Saiyan dick, Vegeta supposed, though likely above average. It had a furred sheath it would slide out of, and was deep, dark red in coloration, similar to that of any Alpha, male or female, that Vegeta had known.

But the Saiyan Prince could scarcely even manage thoughts of that caliber, brain sorely hampered by the smell of the Omega waiting patiently in his house, just a few rooms away.

Like he was a gift, a reward for his efforts and struggles and strifes in life. All for him.

The domesticated part of Vegeta’s brain tried in vain to banish the resurgence of thoughts and urges concerning Kakarot’s son, but the haze of sleep and his own instinctual reaction were beginning to win out, pushing away human social strictures.

Vegeta wasn’t sure said moral restrictions would have ever prevented the inevitable, but perhaps they should have? 

To _them_ , humans, Earthlings, he was not meant to see Gohan as a potential mate, as a conquest.

To the humans, he was meant to be a protector, perhaps even a father figure, a family friend.

It seemed utterly naive to him, then.

The truth of the matter was that Gohan was nothing but a lowborn body for him to fuck, all his royal blood was telling him. Gohan wasn’t meant to refuse him, wasn’t in any place to.

But...

There was another urge, one of the Saiyan survival instinct.

It was telling him to not just use Gohan’s body, but to _breed_ him. Repopulate the Saiyan race. To treat the boy kindly, as a vessel for the next generation.

Gohan was a virgin, after all, not some typical lower caste whore. Something in the scent of him told Vegeta that much, and that really was the last straw.

After that, it was all he could manage to not rip the door to the guest room straight from the hinges, finding himself there before he had even realized entirely he had left his and his wife’s bedroom.

Even just that close, it was hard to bear, the weight of the scent of him, the want and need radiating through the door.

He was sweet and ready, though he could hardly even know what it meant _to_ be ready.

Vegeta steeled himself, pressing the button to unlock the door, and pulled it open, momentarily finding it amusing how the door seemed to sway unevenly.

Gohan was already awake and out of bed, although he had stripped to his boxers, likely from the heat of his own body, hair tousled in a way that reminded Vegeta of Kakarot, just enough to make his nostrils flair.

He had been reading, although Vegeta figured it probably wasn’t productive, judging by how far into heat the boy was. He looked up from where he sat at the sleek desk of the guest room, surprised by Vegeta’s entry.

“Vegeta, sir,” he said, eyes widening. “You shouldn't-”

He broke off, and Vegeta knew what he was staring at. Vegeta was also just in boxers himself, only bothering to slip them on as a matter of propriety, but they hardly left much to the imagination, tented quite significantly.

Vegeta watched Gohan’s expressions intently as they shifted rapidly, confronted as he was by a compatible Saiyan of a higher breed.

There was, of course, a sort of fear that creeped onto the boy’s features. The fear that any Saiyan Omega would experience before they had determined the intentions of the Alpha before them.

Vegeta’s intentions were, obviously, very clear, spelled out plainly by his own arousal and the scent he was sure Gohan could smell.

And so, the fear was followed by a frozen sort of state, shock, at the realization that Vegeta was ready to fuck. Like the idea of Vegeta being somebody who could ever be ready to fuck had never crossed his mind.

Vegeta almost felt offended, and perhaps he would have been if it hadn’t been followed by what came next.

Gohan’s instincts finally kicked in, properly, and Vegeta, retrospectively, was surprised he had ever doubted him for being only half Saiyan.

Because, when it mattered most, Gohan had given him a look, doe-eyed, and then lowered his stare and his head, a bow of sorts. It was acceptance, acceptance that a Saiyan warrior of a finer bloodline would make him theirs, that his body was no longer his own.

Vegeta’s blood roared, his own instincts kicking in properly as well. The sight of Kakarot’s son, too reminiscent of the man himself, submitting willingly to the mere presence of a warrior of a higher class, filled him with a surge of animal dominance.

His self control, even then, was astounding. Admirable. Really, he should have been praised for that as well by his woman and the boy’s mother.

But, at the time, neither of those women crossed his mind. Nothing was in his mind but the thoughts of the easy, pliant body waiting for him.

Gohan had submitted himself willingly, but he was still nervous, moving slowly towards Vegeta, blush clear on his face.

_His scent didn’t lie. He was a virgin, pure as the day he was born._

Vegeta closed his eyes momentarily and breathed in deep the boy’s scent as he drew closer, opening to find that Gohan was waiting in front of him. Waiting to be told what to do.

Vegeta put a hand on Gohan’s shoulder, and even just light pressure was enough to trigger the instinct, Kakarot’s son dropping to his knees in front of him.

_Perfect._

“Take it out,” he said, though his voice was deeper and rougher, still strange to his own ears.

Gohan blinked stupidly before nodding, more to himself than to Vegeta, and pulled the older Saiyan’s boxers down until the man’s cock sprang free. 

Gohan flushed, glancing up with a look of near-panic, and Vegeta couldn’t help his instinctual reaction, petting the boy’s hair, soothing him.

“That’s- That’s different than what I have, Vegeta, sir.”

Vegeta smiled down at Gohan. The poor kid hardly knew anything about Saiyans, clearly, about the differences in their biology.

“Of course it is, boy, you are an Omega, meant only for bearing children, not putting them in others.”

Gohan was pressing into his hand intently, the touch on his head good, but clearly not enough to sate the boy.

“Go on, strip.” _Show me the body that belongs to me._

He did, reaching down and awkwardly sliding his boxers off, staying kneeled. It revealed to Vegeta the softly-furred flat of his pussy, tucked between thighs that had no right being as smooth as they were.

Vegeta groaned, audibly, the scent much stronger without the barrier of cloth, and had a sudden urge.

He leaned down, pushing the younger Saiyan onto his back on the floor of the guest room, and shoved his face between the boy’s legs, those terribly soft thighs quickly pressing on either side of his head as Gohan gasped.

The boy smelled so sweet, and he was so wet already, dripping slick enough that Vegeta was surprised there wasn’t a puddle on the floor. 

He couldn’t help himself, and he gave one long lick along the boy’s leaking slit, stars behind his eyes.

And, _fuck_ , he tasted of paradise, of their planet, of pure Saiyan.

Vegeta moaned deeply with undisguised hunger, sitting up, the other Saiyan still laying back on the ground, breathing heavily.

“I'm going to fuck you, Gohan.”

He had to let his Omega know his intentions fully. It would have a calming effect, the knowledge of his place and purpose. Gohan trembled.

Vegeta stood, finally, and looked down into the boy’s face.

Gohan’s teeth were worrying at his bottom lip as he sat up, legs still spread from Vegeta’s intrusion of his personal space.

 _Although, all of his personal space belongs to me, now_ , Vegeta thought, smirking.

“This is your destiny, Gohan. You are an Omega, built to bear the children of an Alpha Saiyan, and I am of the highest strata, the finest breed.”

Gohan looked down at his own naked body as Vegeta stripped himself of his boxers. The young Saiyan laid a palm flat between his legs, frowning, before looking back up at Vegeta’s dick.

“I don't know what to do, Vegeta, sir.”

Of course he didn’t. That his Saiyan instincts and Omega body would eventually help him through it did not change that he had no understanding of what was to come, of what it would mean for him.

“You don’t have to do anything, Gohan. Your body belongs to me, I am going to claim you, as is my birthright.”

Gohan relaxed slightly and nodded, seeming somewhat comforted, though his hand had not moved from between his legs, still eying Vegeta’s heavy cock with apprehension.

“Would you- If I asked, would you stop?”

Vegeta reached down again to ruffle the boy’s hair, teeth glinting in a grin.

“No.”

Gohan’s face tinted a more violent red, high in his cheeks, and at the tops of his shoulders and the tips of his ears. 

Saiyan dominance, the force of an Alpha, was necessary to an Omega’s feeling of safety. If the Alpha did not push, an Omega would have nothing to hold onto. Vegeta knew it well, and not just from instinct alone.

His father had told him, long ago, that Omegas, along with anyone lesser than their bloodline, (which was, to be fair, most people,) were to be made to subordinate to him, that lesser creatures reveled in being held to accord by their stronger, smarter masters.

Omegas were, in their own way, dumb animals, things of instinct to be cared for and wholly owned by an Alpha.

Gohan, fulfilling the expectations Vegeta already had of Omegas, reacted just so, panting against Vegeta’s thigh at even the mere promise of his reluctance being met with force.

“Feels good... between- between my legs,” Gohan sighed, hips jerking involuntarily. “Don’t know why.”

Vegeta was not a virgin, as Gohan was, but he had never before had sex with an Omega of any sort, Saiyan or otherwise. His own previous experience of emotionless flings, followed by his extended emotionless fling that humans referred to as a “marriage,” had not in any way prepared the Saiyan Prince for the reality that was having an Omega at his feet, on their knees, smelling of the need to be fucked.

Vegeta again was astounded at his own self control. But Gohan had asked a question, the boy deserved an answer.

“It feels good between your legs because your body knows its duty, to accept strong Saiyan seed into your lowborn cunt.”

Vegeta snatched up one of the younger Saiyan’s hands and wrapped it around his own dick, eyes boring into Gohan’s trembling form.

“This was made to be inside of you, to conquer your body. Do you understand? You can cry, you can scream, I don’t give a shit either way, but you’re going to be sated and bred whether you like it or not.”

Gohan’s eyes had a hint of intelligence in them still, and Vegeta resented it, but it helped, he supposed, to not have to explain every single thing out.

“You- Bred?”

“Yes, brat, _bred_. You are going to be carrying my child by the time I leave this room.”

Gohan’s big dark eyes stared wide at him, and Vegeta’s words seemed to do the trick, the intelligence in his face flickering out, replaced by a glassy stare.

Vegeta’s blood pumped higher and faster at that, at the knowledge that the younger Saiyan, usually so wordy and smart and well spoken, had been reduced to his Omega.

Or, depending how one viewed it, _elevated_ to becoming his Omega, truly reaching a higher purpose than any foolish Earthling pursuits.

His Saiyan pride, his own personal ego, both were peaking, and the fact that the brat’s face reminded him of Kakarot wasn’t as unpleasant as he might have previously thought it would be.

Gohan’s body was his, and only his.

Vegeta wondered, briefly, of anyone else that may have wanted Gohan. The Namekian? That little human girl he was friends with? All paltry competition, but, nevertheless, the thought that he was taking something that others wanted, it was good.

He would be Gohan’s first, would teach him that Saiyanhood as an Omega was about deferring to your Alpha, about continuing the race, about bearing children and raising them to be strong fighters.

Vegeta felt a surge of pride, then. Not solely in himself, but pride in Gohan, in the boy’s sheer willingness to make himself available, to stay pliant and waiting on the floor in front of the man.

It was right, it was _his_ right, his _birth_ right. Who could argue it wasn’t? Who could argue that he was not entitled to Gohan’s body? He was the boy’s Prince, he had every right to use his body how he saw fit.

At Gohan’s fidgeting, Vegeta knew it was time, that the Omega was ready, restless.

It was his job, his duty as the boy’s Alpha, to show him his destiny, that having dominant Saiyan cock inside of him was an inevitability.

 _Although_ , Vegeta thought, ego rising even higher. _I really am the only Alpha compatible. Even if he moves on, tries to find someone else to pin him down and fill him up, no one else will have him first, no one else will satisfy him nearly as much as this._

It was true, right? That Gohan’s body was built to respond biologically and spiritually to being dominated by another of his race?

Vegeta nodded to himself.

“Get on the bed, boy, and spread your legs. I’m going to make you a man.”

Gohan’s eyes lit up and he scrambled to his feet, making his way to the rather large bed and laying back onto it, legs splayed wide.

Vegeta sneered. That was not how Saiyans mated. That was, how humans called it, “missionary.”

And yet... his heart tugged at the boy’s face, innocent and sweet, and the smell of his dripping cunt.

He would let Gohan have it that way, at least until he learned how to properly settle around a Saiyan dick.

Vegeta crawled on top of him, self indulgently burying his face into the side of the boy’s throat, groaning low and loud. The smell was strong there too, but different, headier, less sweet and more earthy. More reminiscent of Planet Vegeta.

Gohan was trembling, he could tell, and Vegeta chuckled into his neck, biting lightly. 

“Relax.”

His hands were all over Gohan’s body, which likely wasn’t helping him relax, but he was making a mental map, wanting to become familiar. One hand finally settled on the younger Saiyan’s hip, the other trailing down to his own dick, holding it steady.

Vegeta could have prepared the boy, opened him up with fingers, stretched him at all, but he was wet enough, and Vegeta figured it was unnecessary. It was good practice to learn to take cock without warning. He may need the skill one day.

He pushed his hips forward, and the minute his cock breached the opening of Gohan’s Omega slit, it was a smooth glide inside, dick sliding deep in one motion, forcing the younger Saiyan open.

Gohan‘s hands quickly found Vegeta’s back, holding on for dear life, but the older man had actually come to a complete stop.

Coincidentally, so had the man’s thoughts.

All he could think was,

 _Fuck, fuck, so fucking tight, can feel his pulse through his fucking cunt, perfect, he’s perfect, needed this my whole life_ -

Vegeta finally found himself able to move, though his head was swimming as he let himself think about it, about how he was splitting Gohan open for the first time, about how easily the boy opened up for him, about how _right_ it felt.

Gohan was built for him, body made for the Saiyan Prince to use.

He went slow, and knew that this, _this_ , his woman and the boy’s mother had to be thankful for, that he was so gentle with the boy, letting the slick guide his glide in and out of Gohan’s soaking, cute pink pussy.

Vegeta had looked down, stolen a glance at where they were joined, and it was a _sight_. He could have lost control then, at how open Gohan was around him, at the contrast, the dusky red of his cock stabbing into the younger Saiyan, conquering his body.

Gohan, meanwhile, was clawing marks down his back, crying out into the Prince’s shoulder. He was crying out at the need of it, at his biological instinct, just as much as he was from his apprehension, from his fear.

But the Omega’s resolve would break. Vegeta knew it, as sure as he knew his own father’s face. Gohan would not have run away if given the opportunity-

_At least, not yet._

-but he was still clearly conflicted, not yet fully submitting to the whims of the stronger, superior Saiyan above him.

It would be soon, though. Vegeta knew it, heard it in the first gasp, breathy and high in the back of Gohan’s throat, an embarrassing sound that left the boy’s face pink.

That was the noise that told Vegeta he’d found the spot, one deep in Gohan’s cunt. He inhaled deep as a reward to himself, sucking a mark onto Gohan’s neck.

And he hit the spot again.

And again.

Gohan kept gasping, that high gasp getting higher and needier, the nails digging into Vegeta’s back clawing more. 

Vegeta would not reduce himself to touching Gohan for anything other than his own pleasure, especially when he knew that all the boy really needed to be able to cum was to be held down and fucked, like any good Omega.

Of course, Vegeta was a higher breed. Rarity of an Omega aside, a lowborn was still a lowborn, and the one writhing underneath him, whimpering with a sudden rising fear, was no different.

“M-Mister Vegeta, sir! I can’t- Please-”

Vegeta laughed against the halfbreed’s neck.

“Prince. I’m your Prince.”

Gohan’s insistent gasps and whines didn’t stop, and the boy’s legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him closer, deeper, even as he feigned distress.

“I don’t know what’s-! I can’t-!”

Vegeta purred against him, slowing his thrusts down, hitting him slow and deep, sound of Gohan’s gushing wetness drawn out.

The purr was a rumble, deep in his chest, and it had the desired effect, calming Gohan.

“You’re going to cum. You’re going to cum from nothing but a dick in your cunt, and then I’m going to fuck you like a man.”

Gohan’s brain couldn’t quite catch up to the words before Vegeta was hitting him fast and deep again, hitting that spot each time that made his legs twitch, holding him closer.

He was scared, in spite of the calming effect of his Alpha purring, as all Omegas in his position always were, but his own arousal was as demanding and relentless as the Prince whose cock filled him.

He was on the verge of tears, his cunt pulsing with need, voice peaking higher and higher-!

Vegeta had prepared himself for it, mentally, but it nearly overwhelmed him, the sudden uneven clenching and whining of his name by his ear.

_Vegeta, please! Prince, sir, I need- Sir! Vegeta!_

When Gohan came on his cock, it took all of the willpower Vegeta had to fuck the Omega through it without finishing himself.

Gohan was pulsing, his whole body throbbing with heat, cunt desperate and seeking, needing the constant, steady rhythm of his Prince’s dick to manage it.

Vegeta felt blood trickling down his back and his vision blurred slightly, at how deep Gohan had dug his relatively short fingernails in, at how the boy was sobbing, chest heaving as it finally broke through, the need to cry and cum all at once.

Vegeta slowed his thrusts down gradually, purring, knowing he was treating the lowborn with much more care than he ever would have received on their planet of origin, but...

Gods, the boy’s _face._

Tear tracks ran down it, face blushed pink through and through, lips bruised from his own biting of them.

He was a sight as he struggled to control his crying, breaths shaky and panting, arms and legs weakening their grip on Vegeta.

_Nice and loosened up._

Vegeta came to a stop altogether and paused, examining his handiwork more closely.

He would have to mate the boy, breed him properly, he knew that then. If he didn’t, Gohan might infer that sex was something to be taken lightly, or that it was only about his own pleasure, and not, in fact, about having a knot fucked into him, and his Alpha’s children forced into him.

So, really, it was still just Vegeta’s duty, as the Saiyan Prince, to teach the younger Saiyan his place.

Vegeta stole another deep inhale of Gohan’s scent before moving the boy, pulling out of him.

Gohan whined at the absence, slit fluttering and gaping weakly, but Vegeta resisted the urge to plant his seed then and there, knowing that Gohan would not be truly sated without a proper knotting.

He was merely sedated, and Vegeta rolled the boy over onto his stomach.

“Up on your knees,” he said, voice surprisingly soft, patting Gohan lightly on the ass.

Gohan obliged, movements slow and almost drunken, finally getting his knees underneath him.

It wasn’t perfect posture, Vegeta’s mind told him, and his instincts had him crawling back over the younger Saiyan, pressing a hand firm against the small of the boy’s back. Vegeta delighted to find it was just as pliant as the rest of him, back arching down and hips going up, higher.

It was then, though, that there was a sharp feeling in him, acid threatening to rise in his throat. He suppressed it, but frowned.

 _Ahh._ The boy’s tail scar, his own lack of tail, it had confused his instincts somewhat.

No matter.

The knot that Gohan did not know enough to understand he craved would need to be buried inside him before they were done.

Vegeta let one of his hands press against the younger Saiyan’s pussy, and it was more soaked than it had been, desperate, and Gohan made a noise, panting.

Vegeta sighed, self-satisfaction hot in his stomach as he put both hands on the boy’s hips, pressing himself deep, back into the warm hole waiting for him.

Instincts kicked in again properly, and he knew he had to ensure that Gohan took his due. He made sure his weight was spread out evenly over the younger Saiyan’s body, his arms framing him, and his teeth hovering threateningly by Gohan’s throat, the junction between his neck and shoulder, really.

Should Gohan attempt to escape before he had taken his first knot, as many Omegas did, assuredly, he would be held in place by a single bite to that junction.

And he began to fuck Gohan. Properly fuck him.

The Omega did cry out, but what should have been the usual, acrid scent of Saiyan fear, was instead a sweet smell of heat, of readiness, of fertility.

Gohan did try, more than once, to crawl away, get some leverage to force Vegeta off, but, each time, a deep bite to that junction between his neck and shoulder, it made him go limp, shorted his brain, caused his cunt to flinch tighter with a soft, slick sound.

It was futile, of course, the thought that he could escape if he tried. Vegeta knew better, that Gohan was made to take it, to take him.

He must have known, then, that the only way out was to accept it, to allow his Alpha to finish his conquest of his weaker, more vulnerable body. Perfect for growing a child in. Hundreds of children, if time allowed them. A new Saiyan race, all formed from his soft, pliant body, eagerly welcoming Vegeta in. 

And, in turn, full submission came, just as Vegeta knew it would. His knot was beginning to swell, still easily able to force its way in and out of the boy’s cunt, when Gohan shuddered.

It was a deep shudder, _bone_ deep, accompanied by his head finally falling onto the pillows below, muscles going slack.

And, to Vegeta’s roaring pleasure, the younger Saiyan arched his back down further, pressing his hips up, and back, offering himself up fully to his Alpha, pussy and womb and entire body, belonging to him.

There was a feeling of fire in his veins, at a nearly completed conquest, one he’d rarely felt outside of battle, and never during sex. It was new for Vegeta in that way too, but right, so _right_. It was perfect, exactly where he was supposed to be, exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

Gohan was trapped, invariably so, and Vegeta pounded home into him, keeping the boy a prisoner between the cock forcing into him and teeth at his shoulder.

The younger Saiyan, so perfect, was sobbing silently into the pillow below, and harder when Vegeta’s knot swelled further, beginning to punish Gohan’s inner walls with added pressure, an added burn with the deep-slick slide of cock into him.

Vegeta felt it, and knew what it meant, his knot nearly reaching full size, having to force it in and out with more violent effort, hands surely bruising the boy’s hips, or worse.

But the instinct obscured all of it, and there was a burning urge, a repeated need in his mind.

The urge to knock Gohan up, to make the knot count, to force the younger Saiyan to bear his spawn, continue his line.

It was overwhelming, the thoughts of Gohan heavy with his child, and Vegeta nearly came at the thought.

But his knot was fully swollen, it was necessary, would have to be forced into Gohan’s straining hole.

Vegeta heard him groan, low and deep, a strange sound, but his body finally parted, letting Vegeta drive his knot home, and letting him force the tip of his cock against the younger Saiyan’s cervix, kissing it.

It was _perfect_ , perfect, and he battered against it, the boy underneath him crying out in pain or pleasure, Vegeta didn’t know or care.

But Gohan did not resist at all, didn’t attempt to crawl away again, or escape, or beg him to stop, he merely accepted it, accepted the knot and the older Saiyan battering the wall to his womb.

“Perfect, you are perfect, such a good boy, all mine,” Vegeta purred, reveling drunkenly in the hitch in Gohan’s breath at the unexpected praise.

“Mine, _mine_ , only mine. Going to knock you up, sweet thing, going to put my child into you.”

And Gohan didn’t resist, the boy simply whimpering, cunt pulsing hot around his cock at the promise of a baby being planted inside him.

Vegeta wondered how he ever could have doubted the younger Saiyan’s instincts. They were pure, he was pure, hardly tainted by his human blood, made perfect with the final conquering of his body by an Alpha, how a true Omega Saiyan would experience it.

It was manhood, his acceptance into it. Vegeta would fill him with his semen and Gohan’s body would accept it, smelling so receptive, eagerly forming their child.

It was his responsibility. Gohan would know no other for his first. 

Vegeta was high on the scent of him, on the heat of his body pulling him deeper.

He was high, eyes rolling back as he bit down once more on the junction between Gohan’s throat and shoulder, tongue tasting blood and hips fucking deeper, body going into overdrive at the taste of it.

It was intoxicating, the combination of sensations, the blood, the heat, Gohan’s hiccuping, gasping sobs.

He fucked in as deep as he could, knot locking.

Vegeta was sure he roared something obscene as he came, teeth quickly finding purchase at Gohan’s shoulder again, biting, tearing, ripping, seeking to destroy the thing beneath him that gave him such pleasure.

He barely managed to control himself, brain hazily reminding him that the body he was pumping cum into would bear his children, and he let himself relax, sink into the hot, pulsing feeling of aftershocks.

After a minute, his senses were beginning to return, and he found that Gohan was still crying, whimpering against the blood stained pillow.

His Alpha instincts prompted him, and he kissed the back of the boy’s neck, the high curve of his throat, the edge of his jawline, beginning to purr again.

Vegeta lightly moved his hips and, to his satisfaction, found the two of them still tightly locked together.

He stopped weighing down on Gohan and stayed there on his knees behind the younger Saiyan, examining the point at which they were joined.

His knot was such a dark red it could nearly have been black, and the largest round of it was tucked inside the boy’s slit, forcing the searing walls open, the pale-pink lips of it grasping tight, needing the Prince’s cum deep inside him.

After another minute, he sat back, pulling Gohan with him, into a sitting position in his lap, admiring the taut, toned muscle of his back.

“Such a good boy,” he breathed, brain still not fully focused on the present, though it struggled to adjust.

Gohan trembled in his lap.

“Can- Can we please- We- How we were before-”

Vegeta’s instincts were already in motion, and he gingerly moved the boy around to face him, still sitting in his lap, careful not to pain him too much by putting strain on the knot in him.

And he laid the Gohan down, over top of him, in that silly human form of intimacy they had shared at the beginning. But his Omega’s eyes were swelling with lust and he keened, legs and arms wrapping tight around his Alpha, holding him close.

The younger Saiyan was rocking his hips softly as well, searching for something, making desperate little gasps in the humid silence between them, not daring to look his Alpha in the eyes. Not yet.

Vegeta’s heart swelled with affection as he looked at the boy’s stomach, sticking out just slightly from the pressure of the sheer volume of cum inside him, and he felt his hard exterior melt, just enough that he allowed himself to snake a hand between them, fingers bruising at Gohan’s clit.

He couldn’t help himself, suddenly, and he was kissing up and down the younger Saiyan’s throat again, reveling in the pitch of Gohan’s noises, arching higher and higher.

He rubbed the boy’s swollen clit, ran his other hand over the boilingly hot place where they were joined, jerked his hips just slightly, and Gohan was gentle as a dove beneath him, crying out high and breathy, coming for a second time, clamping down right on his Alpha’s knot, shaking.

Vegeta knew, then, that he had died and gone to Saiyan heaven, some perfect afterlife with the perfect boy underneath him, so sweet and receptive.

The feeling didn’t last forever.

Gohan was finally relaxing, coming down, and _then_ he looked at Vegeta, like a deer in the headlights, fear creeping back.

Vegeta’s brain, staggering, tried to work through what was happening, and tried purring louder, but it didn’t seem to be helping. Panic clutched at his chest.

As his mind slowly cleared, the panic rose significantly, staring knowingly at the bite mark he’d left on Gohan in the midst of-

_Shit._

He exhaled, shutting his eyes.

_He’d just knocked up Kakarot’s son._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gohan is trans, in this, but all (male) Omega Saiyans are trans, something Vegeta knows but Gohan doesn’t.
> 
> This fic uses AFAB language to refer to Gohan’s genitals! If that squicks you out, this is 100% not for you.
> 
> Also, Gohan is ambiguously aged. This can be read as him being underaged, but it wasn’t written with that intent, which is why it isn’t tagged as such.
> 
> This is also from Vegeta’s perspective, more or less, and it makes assumptions about Gohan, his behavior, and Omegas as a whole that are not necessarily reflective of reality. He’s basically internally sexist towards Omegas, in general. So. There’s that.


End file.
